


Dinner Date

by Faetality



Series: Kiss With A Fist [5]
Category: Leverage, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Impact Play, It's an actual conversation, Oh look, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:02:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24393226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faetality/pseuds/Faetality
Summary: He missed dinner, he didn’t check in, Chris waited for him... Chris was going to be angry.(PWP with feelings? There’s plot in here somewhere actually)
Relationships: Chris Argent/Eliot Spencer (Leverage)
Series: Kiss With A Fist [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1765564
Comments: 1
Kudos: 26





	Dinner Date

Chris didn’t go to him. He didn’t drop by for a fun night out of the blue- that was Eliot’s role. He was the one who dropped in and cooked dinner and who crashed into Chris’ life every few months looking for an escape. Chris called him sometimes. He didn’t drop in. 

_[Chris:] I’m in New York, dinner tomorrow?_

Chris did not come to him. Except when he did. 

Eliot had dated before, had his fair share of flings (more than if he was honest) but he’d never been on a date with someone _and_ had that relationship end well. It made him nervous. Never mind that the team was in the middle of a job just across the state line. 

He replied:

_Sounds perfect._

-

It was a mistake and he had known it before he ever pressed send. 

He missed the dinner. He missed dinner and the four phone calls and the two texts and he missed _Chris_. All because their mark got himself kidnapped. Eliot hasn’t even realized the time as it whooshed by him, hadn't realized it until three hours later and still then he didn't have his phone in reach. He sat in the bar for an hour after the job was over, staring at his phone wondering what to do about the whole scenario. 

“What’s wrong?” _Nathan._

“Nothing.”

“You’ve been sitting here as long as I have, That's not nothing for you Eliot.” 

“I missed a date.”

“And she’s angry?”

“I don’t know what he is. I haven’t called him.” 

There was judgement in the silence, not for the pronoun but for _Eliot_. He hated it, he hated being judged. So he shoved from the bar and grabbed his jacket, only stilling when Nathan put a hand on his arm, 

“Call him. Silence won’t solve anything.” 

Chris answered on the second ring. 

“Eliot?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” A sigh comes down the line. Relieved. Chris was relieved. “Are you still in New York?”  
Chris gave him the hotel name, the room number, told him he was glad that Eliot was alive. Then he hung up. So, with little choice, Eliot went to the hotel. 

He knocked and it was only through sheer will that he didn’t swing when Chris immediately grabbed him by the arms and pulled him in for a hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” 

“A few bruises but nothing to worry over.” If his voice was softer than usual that was his own business. 

“I thought you were dead.” This... they didn’t do this- the fragile show of emotions without the buffer of a scene between them. “Why didn’t you call me?” Chris was wearing an old shirt and soft cotton pants. Eliot wanted to bury himself in the man.Cling and not let go until the next job came around.  


“It was a job. Things got hectic and I just... I didn’t think. Didn’t take my phone into the warehouse with me. I’m sorry.”

“Have you eaten?” The composer was back and the hunter was pulling away. Such a flip that even Eliot reeled. 

“I- no. I haven’t.” 

“Order something from room service. I ate at the restaurant.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“Stop apologizing. Order something for dinner and then you can tell me about the job.”

“And you’ll tell me why you’re in New York?” 

Chris smiled. 

“Yeah. And then, after you’ve eaten we’ll see where we want tonight to go. Alright?” 

Who was he to argue with that?

-

The steak was good, the salad crisp, but he couldn’t appreciate it when Chris was sitting across from him nursing a glass of wine and nothing else. They talked about their respective jobs, Eliot glossed over the worst of his- the twelve guys in the warehouse and the near escape he had from the bullets. Chris skipped over the bodies he found in the basement of the vampires house. There were things not meant to be shared even with each other. 

When the plate was empty Chris set his glass down. “I want a yes or no, Eliot; do you want to use our dynamic tonight and are you able to handle a scene?” There was nothing in his voice to push the hitter one way or another. 

“Yes. To both. Yes.”

“Okay.” Chris never asked if he was sure. Eliot liked that about him. The man stood. “Go take a shower, fold your clothes and set them on the counter.” That was familiar. Easy. Routine. It was as soothing as the hot water that fell over his shoulders. 

When he exited the bathroom Chris had cleared the plates and taken a seat on the couch. 

“Come here.” He expected to be put on his knees. Instead he’s pulled to straddle the man’s thighs. He may never know what compelled him to start talking but once he started the words simply wouldn’t stop. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know the job would go like that an’ I should’a called you the second I knew but I didn’t. I’m sorry, Chris-“ 

“Hush. Listen to me, I don’t think you’re apologizing for what I’m looking for you too. Look, look at me Eliot; there you go. Do you think you need to be punished?” He nodded. “Okay, I can do that. What do you feel you need punished for?” Words were hard. He didn’t talk, that wasn’t his job. Words welled in his chest and clawed their way from his throat like thorns. 

“I missed dinner. I skipped our plans.” 

“No.” Eliot tensed. “You aren’t being punished because you didn’t come to the restaurant. You’re being punished for not letting me know _why_ you weren’t at dinner. You didn’t let me know that you were safe and that is why I’m going to punish you, Eliot. Do you understand?” He did. He thought he did at least. 

“Now, I didn’t bring any toys with me so you have a choice. I can put you over my knee or you can go over there and get my belt.” Chris was sweeping his thumbs over Eliot’s bare thighs, gentle and patient and that, more then anything, is what made Eliot stand like a startled hare. The belt would have the bite he craved but it was more... impersonal. Did he want the cruel intimacy of bare skin though? The dilemma turned and turned within him. He took the cop out answer; “You choose, sir. Please.” If it was closer to a whisper than the steady request he wanted well, no one was perfect. 

Chris studied him then shifted in his seat, wondering his legs. “Lay down here.

“I want you to count for me.” The first few hits are firm but without the power he expected. They warmed his cheeks but didn’t sting. Then Chris put more power into the swats. On twelve Eliot drew a deep breath before counting it out. By eighteen he was squirming and one broad hand smoothed down his spine. “We aren’t done yet.” So stay still. 

Twenty hurt. It made his breath hitch and his fingers curled into his palms, nails bit into his skin. “Relax, or I’ll put you on the bed and switch to the belt.” Somehow that was more terrifying than the idea of stopping. Not having the warmth of Chris’ body, his work weathered skin on Eliot’s... he thought he would break without it. He uncurled his fingers and laid them flat against the floor. 

“Good boy.” The next ten hit hard and fast, on twenty seven Eliot sobbed the number and by thirty he was trembling. Chris rubbed the reddened skin. “Five more. Then we’re done. Color?”

“Green. Green just... please.” It wasn’t the pain, no. He’d dealt with far more pain than this in his time but the gentle insistence, the care, and the way Chris would pause to stroke his back between hits just to make sure Eliot wasn’t getting lost... it was a lot. It was too much to believe that sort of care was all for him. That it might not last and he would be untethered again. 

“You don’t have to count these if it’s too much. Just keep your hands flat.” He counted anyway. Through shuddering breaths and the faint taste of salt from tears he hadn’t realized shed, he counted because that was the only thing keeping him sane. 

“You’re done, you’re done. Shhh, you did so good for me sweetheart.” Chris urged him up and over so the he’s half curled on the small couch with his head in Chris’ lap. He let him come back to himself in his own time, stroking his hair and skin until the tears were dried and his breathing was easy. “Feeling better?” 

“My ass is on fire but yeah. Yeah I do.” He felt raw. Open. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. But better was a good way to put it.

“Good. Now, if you ever disappear like that again and it comes down to sheer forgetfulness? I’ll do more than light your ass up. I thought you were dead, Eliot. I was pretty damn sure of it, actually. You might not be used to having someone who cares about you and expects you to check in but I was a parent Eliot; in a life like ours those instincts don’t just go away. You understand?” 

He did. He thought he did at least. 

“I think so. We’re okay now though?”

“Yeah, were okay.

“Dinner tomorrow?” 

  
“Yeah. I’ll be there.” 

“Don’t be late.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”


End file.
